


Midnight Train

by SharaMichaels



Category: Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reconciliation, Romance, Trains, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaMichaels/pseuds/SharaMichaels
Summary: Christine leaves New York together with Raoul and Gustave. After the ship is late to dock in Cherbourg, the family rushes to find last minute tickets for the train to Paris, and spends a peaceful night in a lonely compartment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I love train travelling and with this piece, I tried to capture the magic of sleeping on a train, as I've experienced it. It's something that I wrote for comfort and fun, and wasn't really researched. It's just the kind of experience that I find infinitely calming, and thought that if there are two characters who would benefit from it, then those are the LND versions of Raoul and Christine.

 

 

He craved her touch from the depths of his soul.

It was decided they were to continue together and he trusted her promise. But the time spent on the ship had not been in their favor. Too many nosy people around, separate cabins, a ten year old boy whose innocence had to be protected… It hadn’t been a propitious time for intimate conversations nor loving gestures. But he missed her. Oh, how much he missed her…

The ship had been late to dock. Engine trouble kept them at sea, unmoving, for what he thought was an unacceptable number of hours. They sat on the deck, watching the sun go down while they approached the harbor, then rushed to the train station in the precarious light of late evening. A night train… They were lucky to have a compartment all to themselves; it was the best alternative to a place in the sleeping wagon, who had been already filled. 

Gustave was sleeping stretched on all of three seats on one side. Rocked by the train, it took almost no time for him to fall asleep. Christine had wrapped him in her coat and made a pillow for him out of one of her dresses.

The moon was peering inside through the open curtains. It must have been around two, maybe three. Time ceased to exist and Raoul allowed himself to imagine the train was running endlessly, that there will be no final stop and he’ll spend the next eternity in that soothing silence.

He couldn’t see Christine’s face. She had propped her head on one hand and was looking through the window, at the moon bathed fields. Her other hand was laying idly in her lap, and Raoul couldn’t take his eyes off it. Was she asleep? Her chest seemed to be rising and lowering quite calmly, but the position she was in didn’t look comfortable enough for sleep, he thought.

“Move!”

The words appeared in his mind sharp and clear, as if a different entity had spoken them. His own hand begun to move and he stopped dead in his tracks when he found himself with his fingers in the air.

“Move, for God’s sake!”

The voice got louder and gained a shade of annoyance. His own brain was scolding him and the sensation was humiliating enough for a rebel hand to revolt. On a whim, he leaned over to his left and placed his hand over Christine’s.

Christine jolted out of place and turned an alarmed stare towards her husband. Raoul froze into place and his hand flinched away as if he had touched fire. Christine took a few seconds to recompose herself and eventually her gaze softened.

“I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to jump like that. I thought you were asleep…”

He scooted away from her. His hands found refuge in his lap and his eyes studied the floor. He looked like a small child caught disobeying his mother’s rules and Christine found herself smiling when the image formed in her mind.

“No… _I’m_ sorry,” he mumbled. “Don’t know what got into me.”

Christine whispered a giggle and he looked up. Her hand traveled to his cheek; the fingers curled around his jaw while the thumb stroked gently. Raoul involuntarily leaned his head against her palm and closed his eyes; he wanted to feel her warm touch with every pore. Christine couldn’t reprise a soft, affected “oh”; his reaction was breaking her heart. Was her distance hurting him? All this time she walked on her tiptoes around him, scared her attempts at affection might anger him… she started to think maybe she had gotten it all wrong and felt a strange guilt gathering in her heart. Her hand reached to the back of his head and drew him closer, then she leaned her forehead against his for a long moment that seemed suspended in time.

When she drew back, Raoul’s eyes were still closed. Christine laid on her side against the seat and smiled lovingly.

“Darling… what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

He opened his eyes to look at her; he could barely make out her features in the moonlight, but he knew in his heart it must have been the most beautiful sight.

“Nothing… It was nothing. I just wanted to see if you’re still awake.”

Christine pressed her lips together and threw him another teasing smile.

“You haven’t changed much in ten years, Raoul. No… almost not at all. You’ve just acquired a few addictions.” She felt him tense up and stopped. Raoul felt his cheek burn at the use of the plural. Christine continued unaffected. “You’re still so shy when you want to ask me something,” she said playfully, poking his nose with her index finger.

Raoul’s nose shied away from her touch in an expression of utmost adorableness, and it was in that moment that more than any other that she realized how much she had missed his face.

“I suppose I just wanted to hold your hand…”

They were talking in a low voice, as to not disturb Gustave’s sleep, but his reply was quiet even by those standards. Christine clutched her hands at her chest for a moment, then put out her arm and called for her husband:

“Raoul, come here.”

He looked at her wide-eyed, until she urged him with a gesture of her fingers.

“Don’t be shy, dear. Come here.”

Raoul obliged and laid his head ever so slowly on her shoulder, tentatively nuzzling against her woolen shawl. She wrapped he arm around him, but the touch triggered an awakening of responsibility in him and he jolted from his place. Christine looked at him in surprise.

“No, it is _you_ the one who needs to be held! You needed so much from me, you needed a proper husband, to hold you and take care of you and to kiss you… You deserve all the kisses, Christine… And all I’ve given you was sadness and worry and ugliness and _hate_. I need… I have to make it up to you… You need to let me make it up to you!”

Christine gave him a patient smile.

“Rest assured, I will be fine.” She squeezed his upper arms and dragged him towards her. Raoul let his head fall against her shoulder once again.

“Wait, this cannot be comfortable for either of us.”

He watched her as she drew the curtain slightly and laid back on the small space between the window and the seat.

“Take your coat and come here,” she said, opening her arms.

Raoul complied and ever so gently settled in her embrace. Christine got hold of the coat and draped it around his body.

“You will get cold when you fall asleep…”

“And what about you, Christine? What will keep _you_ warm?”

He was laying on top of her and her arms, circling his shoulders, were completely covered by the woolen coat. Given the circumstances, Christine felt strangely amused by the question.

“ _You_ will.”

The train continued its run. The compartment fell silent, aside from the cadence of the wheels. Raoul had put one his legs up; not the most polite of gestures, resting his shoe on the cushion, but he hoped there would be nobody else needing to board the train on that particular night. Christine blinked slowly, taking in the calm of the atmosphere.

Gustave mumbled something in his sleep and turned towards the wall. Christine became alert, eyes squinting in her son’s direction, searching for any signs of trouble. But whatever the dream might have been, it was certainly not a nightmare. She could hear the boy’s calm breathing, body completely still underneath her heavy coat. That red coat had been one of the few things she adamantly refused to let go of, no matter how tight the money got. “A good wintry coat will always come in handy”.

Once assured her son was at peace, Christine’s thoughts turned to her husband. He probably missed her more than she ever imagined. And all this time she believed he would be happy to be left alone… Her hands moved underneath the cover, searching for his hand. She found his fingers soon enough and grasped them with determination. She felt Raoul respond to the gesture and smiled in the dark.

“I hope I’m not too much of a bother.”

“No, never… You never were, really.” The thoughts were racing through her mind in a haze. “Raoul, I am your _wife_. We are _married_. Whatever you think you should do for me, it goes both ways. I can be here for you too, if you need me. All you have to do is ask… And now, it was you the one who reached for my hand, wasn’t it? I say it’s my turn to be the comfort and I don’t mind it at all.”

Raoul lifted her hand to his lips and kept it there for a while, in the world’s shyest kiss. Christine caressed his cheek with the back of her free hand. It was soft, clean-shaven, and if she concentrated enough she could still sense the cologne he had put on last morning. “He’s trying so hard to impress me…”

The train stopped at a station with a violent move. Christine angled her head, trying to catch a glimpse of the sign, but gave up soon enough. She spotted at the corner of her eye a man bundled up in a heavy coat, carrying a massive suitcase, making his way across the lines, and felt herself growing impatient. She needed for the train to move, ached for the sound of the wheels to deafen her thoughts and wanted to revel in the sensation of going far, far away. The only train in the world, running through nameless stations, with no destination in sight…

The wheels yanked and the train gained speed soon enough. Christine felt the words leave he mouth before she had the time to think them over.

“The walls of ship cabins are very thin…”

Raoul didn’t reply, but she felt his hand tense underneath hers. Christine tightened her embrace around him and rested her cheek against his head.

“I heard you scream last night. And the night before that… And on the first night… And then you tossed and turned for God knows how long, while I covered my ears with the pillow and prayed. For what, I don’t even remember. I just prayed… and then had the nerve to be annoyed when you would be late for breakfast…”

Her warmth was soothing and he yearned for honesty, felt a sudden urge to speak all the words and a strange desire to cry his heart out at the same time.

“I'm so sorry, Christine,” was all he managed before his voice caught. “For… everything.”

How could he ever begin, how could he even dare and apology? What was he regretting? Was it just the big things, the missing of important days, the drinking, the mindless gambling that wasted all their money away and the constant bad mood he was in? Or was it more the little things, the small painful memories etched in his brain? The time he found her waiting for him in the middle of the night and didn’t address her a single word, the time he shattered half the glasses in the cabinet out of sheer anger, the time he yelled at her so loudly that she instinctively put her arms up in desperate defense… A shiver shoot through him in front of that memory. Christine took his other hand in hers and pressed her lips against his hair.

“Shh… I am sorry too.”

She was far from being a saint. There were far too many arguments when she hoped he was too drunk to remember all that she had said, far too many nights when she tossed and turned in her bed knowing that there was no way he wouldn’t remember. Sometimes she avoided him out of fear, sometimes it was out of disgust and sometimes she just didn’t feel like facing him. There where nights when she had hoped _the other_ really was the father of her child, beyond any doubt, and that he would come back to take her away, nights when the memory of his voice was her only comfort. She had screamed too loudly, blamed him relentlessly when she was no less guilty, turned away even when she could clearly see the fear in his eyes…

Panic was slowly settling in her bones, not knowing what more to say or if she should say anything at all. As if he guessed her distress, Raoul spoke and disrupted her turmoil:

“I still love you, Christine.”

It was a soft, reassuring tone. Not demanding a similar response, not even expecting one.

Christine swallowed hard the knot in her throat. She felt tears crowding at the corners of her eyes and squeezed them tightly. She mustn’t cry. Raoul would worry and try to comfort her or he himself would start crying and the peace of the moment would be ruined. She took a long, tentative breath and rested his chin against his head.

“I love you too, Raoul. Please never doubt that again.”

She knew that he will and something in the depths of her mind assured her that she’ll surely give him plenty of reasons to doubt again in the future. But for the moment, it was good enough to say the words.

Raoul shifted nervously in her embrace. A black premonition started in his heart and concerns of a more practical nature than the eternity of love knotted his stomach. He twisted his neck in the direction of her face; Christine sensed his intention and bent forward to meet his eyes.

“Christine…” he was suddenly too ashamed of his past actions and the words died at the tip of his tongue.

“What is it, darling?” Christine encouraged.

“How will we manage?”

She sighed. They were going back to a life full of debts, with enough money for a carriage to the mansion and a few lunches. But with her husband nestled in her arms, honest and affectionate, Christine de Chagny knew she wasn’t alone anymore and the feeling of togetherness made her feel the strongest woman on Earth. People were stupid, they got themselves neck deep in debts all the time, but lived to tell the tale, didn’t they…?

“We will manage,” she declared eventually, and could see the outline of Raoul’s smile even in the darkness.

○○○

The train stopped in another station. This time, Christine didn’t even attempt to see where they were. She was content to watching the orange light from a nearby lamp playing in the compartment. Gustave slept peacefully in his cocoon, completely still aside from the rhythmic rising of his chest. Raoul was breathing softly in her arms, finally at peace. Christine yawned and caught herself closing her eyes for a long moment. She opened them at once and blinked quickly, chasing away the sleep. Behind closed lids laid far too many nightmares and the image presented in front of her was far too beautiful her not to try and battle sleep a little longer.

 


End file.
